


Jonathan Crane: Family

by goth_on_ham



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Character Study, Child Abuse, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goth_on_ham/pseuds/goth_on_ham
Summary: Three snippets from Jonathan Crane's life. One featuring his sister, one featuring his mother, and one featuring his great-grandmother. A sort of backstory that borrow elements from the comic books and the animated series.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a backstory for Jonathan Crane/The Scarecrow. I know that he has one in the comic books, and this draws upon that but I also wanted to have some creative freedom and tweak things a bit. I wrote this as a way of getting to know his character, although I'm not going to pretend that it's completely in keeping with what other fans think of him. I wanted to write something with him in it, but sort of make my own version of his story.
> 
> I'm thinking of making this a three part series (each with three short snippets). The next one will probably cover his relationships outside of family (or lack thereof) and I'm between a few different ideas for the third.

“I’m surprised that the newspapers even believed you when you told them that you are my sister, Katherine.” Jonathan remarked, almost conversationally. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t respond when there was a gag in her mouth. It was his opinion that conversation was an overrated art anyway. “We look nothing alike.”

He knelt in front of his bound victim, his sister, and pulled her head up by the hair. She was a redhead, like him. One of the few physical traits they shared. Her eyes, which were bright blue, while his were dark and hollow, were wide with fear. Behind his mask, Jonathan found himself smiling.

“Spiders are the most common phobia. Did you know that? It is more prevalent in women than men, but I have a hope that your fear will be something more interesting than that. Spiders become boring after a while. I’ve heard more people shriek about spiders than I can count.” He chuckled, removing her gag so she would be able to scream freely. “Perhaps heights? That is another common one. However, it is far more thrilling. If it’s heights, I’ll take you out onto the roof and dangle you there by your feet.”

“Jon, please-“

“I despise being called ‘Jon’.”

“Jonathan. Please. I’m your sister. I needed the money. I thought… Maybe-“

“Maybe they would give you some money for your story? I hope they paid you in advance. You will need it for the hospital bills.” He snorted, tightening his grip on her hair.

Katherine’s vision blurred as tears came to her eyes. They were angry tears. She was still afraid, but she was angry too. Jonathan noticed the change with interest. He didn’t know Katherine very well, this was him getting to know her.

“You know, I wasn’t going to say that you were a monster. I was going to say about how I felt bad for you. Having to live with that witch.” She told him, struggling to keep her voice steady.

‘Witch’ was an appropriate description for their great-grandmother. It surprised Jonathan that she had been planning on saying anything sympathetic about him. They had never lived under the  same roof and the few times they had met before now had been after he had established himself as a criminal. Cold, quiet visits in Arkham where Katherine would try to talk to him and he would count the minutes until he could go back to his cell and be left in peace. He only accepted her visits so he could get a change of scene, but every time he found that it was never worth the tedium of listening to her talk.

“You never met her. The ‘witch’.” Jonathan pointed out, bitterly. 

“No, but mom told me about her. She _was_ a witch, and I always felt bad for you having to live with her for so long.” Katherine had never done well in school, unlike her infamous brother, academics didn’t matter to her. Paying the bills mattered to her. Being a decent person mattered to her. She was always frank with her thoughts and didn’t dress up her words, so she didn’t hide how angry she was. “But now I can see you _are_ a monster. You would’ve been if you were sent to live with her or not.”

“Correct.” He didn’t deny it and he didn’t care if she thought him a monster. He was a professor of psychology and he knew enough about it to know that there was something lacking in him. Something that had probably always been lacking. Perhaps that constituted him ‘being a monster’. “Breathe in deeply, dear sister.”

—

“You can live with us if you like.” 

“Of course you can.”

“You’d even have your own room.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

He only half heard their words. Their idiotic, chipper words. As if they didn’t know what living with her had been like. As if they didn’t care. Now that his great-grandmother was dead and he was back in Gotham, they wanted to pretend to make an effort. Perhaps they had caught on that he was clever, and would probably be rich one day, and so wanted to smooth over relations to maximise profit. It wouldn’t have surprised him.

“Jonathan, are you okay?”

His mother reached forwards and put a hand on the back of his. He didn’t even move to pull it back, although he wanted to. Actually, what he wanted to do was pick up the fork he had been eating with and stab her through the hand with it. It didn’t matter if it went through into his as well.

“I’m perfectly fine where I am. I prefer to be alone anyway.” He answered, his eyes still staring at her hand on his. Imagining the blood. “I have my studies to concentrate on, and I wouldn’t be able to concentrate with a baby in the house.”

“Katherine is five, hardly a baby.” His mother laughed, but it seemed forced. She was probably annoyed that he’d gotten her favourite child’s age wrong. Her boyfriend laughed too. For all Jonathan knew he might be his father as well as Katherine’s. He’d never felt inclined to find out. “You really should meet her some time. She’s your little sister after all.”

“I don’t like children.” He replied, and her hand finally moved off of his. Feeling freed by that, he stood up and put down a couple of bills to pay for his share of the food. “I’ll be in touch when I graduate. Thank you for the dinner.”

His mother didn’t argue, didn’t say that she’d be in touch sooner than that. Graduation was half a year away. A vaguely sad expression passed over her face, but it was fleeting. 

—

“Jonathan, you little monster! What have you _done_?” 

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying to me again, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“It only makes it worse when you lie!”

Jonathan closed his book and looked over at his great-grandmother. She was shaking. She was getting frailer. He was nearly her height now and while he was frail too, he had a feeling that he was growing stronger while she was growing weaker.

“I’m not lying.” He stood up from his chair and tilted his chin up, a rare act of defiance towards his legal guardian. 

‘I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid.’ He repeated those three words like a mantra in his head.

One night, years ago, when he had first come to live with her, she had told him that she was never afraid because she believed that God protected her. It had been a rare moment of closeness between them. She had talked to him in a soft voice, one that he was not used to hearing from her. She had told him passages in the Bible that held special meaning to her and he had read them that night, hoping to find something in them that made him feel how she felt. Protected. Unafraid. Connected to another human being, maybe even connected to God.

He hadn’t found it.

Something shifted in her expression, and despite her seeming so very frail to him just moments previously, she suddenly seemed like the strongest force in the world. He lowered his eyes to the ground. His vision became blurry with tears and he hated himself for it. Hated himself as much as he hated her for what she was about to do to him.

“Yes, I was lying.”

As he said those words his great-grandmother reached towards his writing desk and picked up a long wooden ruler. He had been through this too many times before to not know what to do. He didn’t even think of disobeying and held out his hands. 

Each strike made him gasp in pain and when it was over and she was gone he doubled over, holding his bruised hands between his legs, even though it did nothing to make them feel better.

He should have just told her the truth about what had happened to her pet birds. How they’d gotten mangled like that when the cat couldn’t possibly have reached the cage.

But he’d been afraid.


End file.
